Parasomnia
by Andrejia
Summary: There's no grater sorrow than to recall happiness in times of misery". Luka and Abby, but no 'shipping.
1. Luka

_**A/N:** First of all, many thanks to Mrs. Eyre for her help with this. _

_As for the story itself, I felt very inspired by the whole season 6 - "Luka on a boat" thing and what went on between him and Sam and Abby/Jake in the 11th season. I very much enjoyed writing this, probably more than what I've previously written, because I guess the whole doom and gloom with a very happy ending is the closest to my heart._

* * *

1. Luka

He had bought a leather jacket yesterday; came home, tried it once again then dumped it in the wardrobe. She knew he had been shopping, so when she came home, she asked whether she could see what he got. He took out the jacket and showed it to her, not making a big deal out of it. She checked it, turned it inside out and, eyebrows raised, she told him it was a fake. He frowned and looked at it again, surprised. He bought other things from that store and he knew those were the real deal. So how could that one be a fake? It couldn't be a fake; he picked it up all by himself, he did so many times before and he had never been wrong. He blamed everything on going with the flow, on choosing "because it's nice and it looks good and it makes him feel good so it doesn't matter if it's not that warm". But this time…he never failed when buying a piece of clothing. He could always point out the difference between the imitation and the real one. How could it be fake? And mostly, he bought it from a well known store, a store he used to shop a lot in. He had never been wrong; that store had never failed him. And yet that was a fake. She laughed at him and threw it on the bed, joked about his age, said that he's getting old. Then she took a deep breath and picked it up again, measuring it with her eyes. She told him that, growing up, she never had the real thing; with her, fake was the next best thing. Fake clothes, fake fathers, fake friends and fake boyfriends. For her, that was the normal way so he shouldn't have made such a big deal about it. It was just a jacket and a nice one and no one could ever know anyway and it looked so good on him that he'd be a fool not to wear it.

"But I know", he said, a bit disappointed by his choice. It wasn't so much the jacket itself as it was the feeling that he had liked something so much, was sure of it, sure of his instincts, only to be proved wrong.

"Hey, these things don't last long, anyway. Wear it a couple of times so you won't feel bad about the money and you can buy a new one soon. I don't think you'll get to wear it more than…I'd say five or six times. Be a Good Samaritan again and its life expectation will be even lower. Trust me. I know these things", she smiled and kissed him, run her fingers through his hair and took off her bathrobe.

* * *

He threw a ball at the boy and made a few jokes, smiled and kissed her softly took another sip of coffee and headed for the door. It was his turn to give him a ride to school and afterwards, he'd be dropping her off at work before heading for the superstore, because they were out of milk and beer and maybe he would even pick up those cereals that she loved so much but tasted like a wash cloth to him.

When he got back home, he put everything in the fridge or the cupboard, turned the TV off when he realized that she had forgotten it was on, on some random channel, because he didn't appreciate the same reality shows as she, although it didn't bother him and sometimes he even teased her with it, until she said something rude and then he just smiled, turned around and pretended it hadn't happened. He had a few more hours until he had to leave, he was on tonight and he liked doing graveyard because it was more quiet then, not because there were fewer patients, but there was something about being wide awake while everybody slept that gave him some sort of comfort.

So he picked up a few clothes randomly thrown on the couch and, well, almost everywhere, without realizing they were all hers, all thrown on his very perfectly arranged, expensive but slightly uncomfortable furniture, like invading him, like it was the only way she could get to him, because even if he had let her have control, she would never control him and he didn't even notice that it was so very easy, even for the inexperienced eye who knew nothing about them, about their relationship, to figure out which things were his and which were hers, of course, counting out the clothes.

The boy was at school and she was at work and he had thought about cooking for tonight because he still had time but he wasn't that domestic in this life and remembered that they were a modern couple who would get some take out or go out and the boy liked pizza anyway and he took into consideration the first and only time he had tried to cook for them something traditional and how they ended up ordering Chinese because she hadn't been into lessons about cultural differences, as she'd much rather eat a few burgers, with a beer or two and ask him why he would go to all that trouble when the easy way out was just a phone call away, to which he'd replied that he had wanted to do something for them and he'd got a quip in return.

He took a shower and for the first time in a long time he saw his life, this life, very simple and if someone were to ask him about future plans, like getting married, and not just in general, but to her, he'd just look confused and smile in a devilish way, maybe look away and be a little embarrassed because, frankly, he didn't really think about next week or next month, which was weird because the last time he was part of an 'us' he had always planned and over analyzed and it wasn't like he was taking one day at a time, it had just never occurred to him that things would be changing, either for better or worse.

But wasn't it weird that 'us' was actually 'them' and 'him' and no matter how often he closed his eyes, he could never pictured all of them as a whole, as part of the same entity?

He did think about having kids with her however, but to be honest he thought about her being the mother of his child which wasn't necessarily the same thing. So if that meant he had thought about their future, or his future with her, then yes he had.

He got used to living fast, smoking and drinking without anyone telling him that it's wrong and he should stop – and even if they had, he would've just frowned and left, because the nights were cold and days were colder and these were his blankets - but why did it feel that he was living someone else's life? This wasn't in the plan, even if he never had a long term one, well, not even a short term one, since he never thought that he would be a sleepwalker, mainly because he had never had that sort of trouble before. Trouble sleeping, yes, but how could he be a sleepwalker when he was wide awake?

He used to drift away, not staying in one place long enough for them to get it, not ever daring to think that his life might one day be about more than polishing the boat and making small talk with those in charge of security in countless ports and some others who used their boats for leisure and thought he was so cool, looked up to him and told him how much they envied him for being an independent spirit and added with a very confiding tone that if it hadn't been for the wife and two, three or even five kids, they would've done the same thing, because they hated their job and that lousy routine and dinner table conversation. One of them had even told him a secret, how sometimes he woke up wishing he could have gotten back the last ten or twenty years of his life, without being sure that if, given the chance, he would've made the same choices and sacrifice liberty for a family life, but didn't quite manage to finish that thought because his wife called him and she was angry because he was supposed to drive her mother to the dentist's and pick up the cake for their second daughter's sixth birthday, but he forgot and came to see his real 'baby' instead. So when he got back to his car and looked back once more feeling nostalgic, he had told him how lucky he was for having his freedom and that maybe he would've liked to trade places with him for a while, to get that wild feeling of liberation back.

He didn't answer but smiled instead and nodded and wished the man his best and looked at him pulling out his cell phone and starting to yell, at his wife probably, not because she did something wrong, but mostly because she was there and handy and it was easier for him to let everything out at her. And afterwards, he got back on the prow and looked up at the sky, wondering how long it was going to be before the blue would be turning grey and he would be needing to go again, since he had had one too many conversations anyway and it wasn't really worth sticking around to hear another nameless face tell him how much he was envied.

And soon the night would come and he'd lie outside with a book and a beer and sometimes look at the sky again and see Ursa Major and the Northern Star shining brightly and he'd know that even if there was only water around, as long as his compass pointed toward the North, that was the only direction he needed, because although he was, he didn't feel stuck between two variables, he didn't need a ground to hold on to, because water and sky are never-ending, while earth could be shattered.

He closed the door of the medicine cabinet and was somehow surprised by the image in the mirror. He shook his head and tried to forget those times and pretended those had been part of a long dream, even though he sometimes had wished he could've gotten just a hint that he was still alive and awake and not just walking in his sleep and dreaming of times when he would no longer be needing to tell her what he thought, she'd know in an instant; and he blamed everything on moving too fast and not thinking through, but he had no regrets and said to himself that this was the way things were meant to be.

He chose a shirt and a tie to go with it and remembered her words about dressing up and going through all that trouble for a bunch of people who mostly kept their eyes closed and others who really didn't care, to which he always responded that he wasn't 'dressed up' and didn't even care about what they thought, he just did it for himself and that he didn't notice he had a certain posture.

He picked up the keys again and headed for the door and hoped that tomorrow morning when he'd be back home, they'd be awake and the apartment would be alive, only that every time he went out he wished he'd come back to laughter and noise and not the kind powered by electricity, although each time he entered the door he thought to himself that there must've been something wrong with the heat again, because he had gotten an uneasy feeling.

* * *


	2. Abby

Welcome to County, Dr. Lockhart!

And intern...she took off her coat and changed into scrubs, pull her chocolate hair up in a big pony tail, the stethoscope in a pocket, no, took it out and hanged it around her neck because that was better and it was more accessible that way and opened the door to a new day.

He was nice…he really was. Had a nice smile and his dentist seemed to be doing a great job, lovely blue eyes and she had to admit to herself that she had always been attracted to blue eyes, especially to those she used to wake up next to the last few weeks. And more, she had to admit to herself that indeed he looked very nice and sharp in blue scrubs. Maybe because it matched his eyes...Every now and then she waited for her heart to skip a beat whenever she would see him, when he held her hand and talk with a low, sleepy voice about their future; their future being the next day. She kept wanting to feel shivers down her spine whenever they were breathing the same air, whenever he was close and getting closer.

If she were to ask him to move in with her, she was sure he was going to show up at her door wearing shorts and a funny t-shirt, in the middle of winter, with his toothbrush in one hand and a huge grin on his face, because that was his only baggage and it wouldn't have been fair because her place was crowded and her things were everywhere and would've ended up choking him or worse, he would've ended up borrowing her things, which weren't exactly sharing material. Not to him, at least.

So she didn't. Instead, she played her part very well and felt so good for once not to remember that she wasn't made for this world, for his world, because she felt she wasn't good enough for him. She has had some great guys in the past few years and it she laughed when realized that apparently County was full of great guys, she had a chance to get to know two in particular these last few years, but this guy…this one…his only problem was that he had no problems and it scared her because that meant she had to share and make him her co-pilot, when maybe it would've been easier to share the same pillow with someone who knew by heart every small path of all the nine circles of hell…and back.

She took a deep breath and changed the focus of her thoughts because this was work and she should work and it was busy and the nurses were yelling for a doctor anyway, so she had to ignore the little inner philosophies and move on. To being a doctor.

Yes, she was; she was a doctor and for the first time she was able to admit it to someone who didn't know her, the real her and judged her only by a few pieces of the puzzle randomly assembled; and this time she was proud and said it out loud and it wasn't just for herself, that nurse was there, the nurse she had trouble remembering at first, mainly because there had been so many deliveries that particular Thanksgiving, that she got confused. For the nurse, she had been the one who had taught her to breastfeed; for her, she had been "that single Mom with twin girls in room 11 that seems like she hasn't got a clue about what she's doing here". So she said it and she heard her, loud and clear and she left her there, on the hallway, confused, bedazzled and bewildered and as she turned on her toes she couldn't help but smile and for the first time allowed her entire body to feel the joy because she was envied and she was one of the lucky ones, she wasn't the one left behind, there was someone else there, behind her and that, even if maybe it was wrong, it made her happy. The words still echoed in her mind, and she almost could have seen them, clear and true and meaningful.

"You're a Med student?!!" That could've been _**her**_; _**that**_ could've been her. That _**could've**_ been her. But instead, that was the nurse from O.B who had already seemed like she figured out her life.

She knew she was being watched, watched like she used to follow doctors with her eyes and not only them, but people who had seemed to be happy or at least at ease with their life, people who had seemed to have been born only to be envied, only to be successful, while she had been using space for nothing. But now, this was her time, so she went on, following the gurney and waiting for someone more appropriate to tell her where she could take her coat off.

The thought lingered a bit on her mind, remembering her other first day here, which happened to be also his first day back after months of writing yet another novel to add to his collection, the one he keeps in his oversized luggage – wondered how he managed to get that through custom…At least _**she**_ didn't move around so much; dragging things the size of a sky scraper all over the place wasn't quite her ideal Sunday afternoon; or any other day, for that matter.

She did move out from his place, thought. Or their place. From that place she was tight to with a wedding ring. When their apartment got too tiny from all the walls being built inside; the soundproof kind.

She could smelled her on him, and it made her sneeze, because the perfume was cheap and it irritated her senses and so she just turned to her side and stuck her nose deep in the pillow and shut her eyes, and wondered when was the exact point she had stopped caring. But she gave him that; at least he had that. He had comfort and a place to go to be able to forget…about her, about her problems, about her meetings, about her mother, about her cigarettes and about that night when he matched in Chicago and was excited to be an intern so somewhere amid the whole enthusiasm he had asked her to marry him, to which she'd replied "yes". She gave him all that, but had trouble understanding why his hand was up her blouse, searching frantically for the "buttons" he had always thought that by pushing he'd take her there and wondered how he managed to jump from the other side of the cliff right next to her for a few minutes, but at least the force of his grip was explainable. Both with their pyjama tops still on, she was still holding on to him, afraid to let go, afraid to be alone, pretending she didn't notice that her scent was bothering him, that the smell of tobacco on her hair was among the many reasons he just wanted to get over with it.

But now she was an intern and it was all she ever dreamed about, because she always went with the flow, not planning for more than a few weeks ahead and even then, it seemed like too much. But this, this was the only selfish thing she had ever wanted, only for herself, that didn't imply other people, or other people being well just so that could be free, which is a completely different type of selfishness. Now she was an intern and things were going great, because from the outside looking in, she really did have everything, she was considered lucky, to have both a white coat and blue eyes staring at her in the morning.

Without even thinking things through, she had become an expert on avoiding him while at work, because she was flying solo, or wasn't hungry, or had a lot on her hands and lately whenever some too-well-informed-about-her-off-duty-curriculum nurse would wink at her whenever they were charting together, instead of blushing sweetly, like she did in the beginning, or smiling, she frowned and found herself irritated and was even more afraid because this time she knew for sure it was all her fault, because this was the type of guy who'd stick around, this one actually chose her over his plans for a better job, a more solid career and a city which was nothing like the Congo. So, yes, she had no doubts that this time, it was all her fault, although couldn't quite articulate the problem.

With the other guy…that was simple. It didn't stick, as much as he seemed to have wanted it. It just didn't. He wasn't from another country, like the one before who had left her even more confused and uncertain and fed her fears, yet he was from another world, a world she always thought she'd make a fool out of herself if she dared to apply for. So when the manager handed her the papers than needed to be filled, she searched the bag but found nothing to write with so she decided to take those home and return them later, all required fields nicely filled out with capitals, only that somehow, on the way, she had lost them and it had been an one shot sort of chance. And those papers were too fancy for her anyway. She didn't quite feel like writing on some century-old yellow papers, on which some others whose names included roman numbers had written long before her. She had never liked history classes; or roman numbers.


End file.
